


The Job Requirements

by Margo_Kim



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: AU, Bonding, Community: martianholiday, F/F, Female Character of Color, First Meetings, First Time, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margo_Kim/pseuds/Margo_Kim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WDI Roy was a funny sort of bird, Annie thought carefully. She thought carefully because if she thought recklessly, she might think something like <i>WDI Roy was a complete and utter nutter</i> instead, and that didn’t seem very charitable. Things were going to be hard enough for her without people thinking she was insane on top of it all. Though she probably was insane. Even if Annie was trying very hard not to think about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Job Requirements

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 Armed Bastards Exchange for talkingtothesky. Hope you enjoy!

They drove in silence. Annie couldn’t think of a thing to say, and as soon as she’d gotten in the car, Maya had closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the window. At stops, Annie glanced over to see if she was sleeping. Annie doubted it. The thin line of Maya’s mouth matched the furrows in her forehead. There was no rest on that face.

WDI Roy was a funny sort of bird, Annie thought carefully. She thought carefully because if she thought recklessly, she might think something like _WDI Roy was a complete and utter nutter_ instead, and that didn’t seem very charitable. Things were going to be hard enough for her without people thinking she was insane on top of it all. Though she probably was insane. Even if Annie was trying very hard not to think about it.

Annie knew she ought to be thinking about it. As a general rule, Annie believed she should think about things she didn’t want to think about. Most of the time, you just didn’t want to think about them because you didn’t want to deal with them, and the things you didn’t want to deal with were the exact things you didn’t want to fester inside of you. Annie didn’t deal with things nearly as much as she believed she ought to, but by God she could at least think about them and think about them and think about them until she’d worn a groove in her own brain. And the fact that the new transfer from Hyde seemed certifiable struck Annie as one of those things that she really ought to be thinking about.

But here was the thing: Maya was a Paki woman who was now the second most powerful person in the CID, as improbable as it all sounded. (Hyde must have been a fair bit more egalitarian than Annie’d ever thought.) That changed things. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it did. Annie wouldn’t call herself a feminist, partly because saying it aloud wouldn’t make you very many friends down at the station, but she still believed in women taking care of their own. No one else was going to help. If Maya’d been a man, sure, Annie would be the first in line to get him help far, _far_ away from any positions of police power. But Annie knew better than most that if you were a lady making a go at being a copper, you had to be at least a little cracked. Add being foreign on top of that, and you’d have to be a stark raving lunatic to manage at all.

 _Maybe it really is just a head injury,_ Annie thought, though Maya had insisted fervently that she was fine, absolutely fine, don’t lay a bloody finger on her because she was _fine_. Or maybe it was just exhaustion. After a full night’s rest, Maya’d come into the station in the morning and say, _Oh, did I claim to be from the future? My mistake. Just a little prank, nothing more. I was just testing you, Annie, and you passed with flying colors. Now you’ve earned the right to ask me all the things you’ve always wanted to ask a female detective except you’ve never found one before. Aren’t you a clever one? Do you want me to mentor you so that you too can be WDI someday soon?_

What? It seemed more plausible than Maya actually being from the future.

“I hope you don’t mind DCI Hunt too much,” Annie said when the silence grew intolerable. “He says a lot, but he likes you.”

Maya didn’t open her eyes. “Yes, I could tell from the sixteen variations on Paki he came up with in under ten minutes.”

Annie bit her lip. “It doesn’t mean…he says things like that about everyone. No matter what you are. But he’s good enough. He’ll give you a fair shake and if you hold on, he’ll respect you for it.”

“Brilliant. Because all I’ve wanted my entire life is for men like Gene bloody Hunt to respect me.”

Annie didn’t have anything to say to that. Luckily, she didn’t have to. “We’re here,” Annie said, sounding far more chipper than she felt as she parked. Maya was silent all the way to the flat’s door, where Annie fumbled the key into the lock. Annie could feel Maya’s eyes on her back. She felt like she was being measured up; she suspected she was being found wanting.

Annie pushed open the door. “There you are.”

Maya stepped forward into the dark, dank little room. At last, she spoke. “Oh God, no,” she said. In Annie’s opinion, it was the first sensible thing she’d said all day.

“It's not so bad, is it?” Annie asked.

“People rent rooms like this so they have a place to kill themselves without disturbing their family.” Maya gingerly kicked the sorry looking trundle bed. It shrieked when it moved. Something that looked like a cloud of rust billowed up. Maya made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded murderous. “Forget it,” she said. “Delusion or dream or whatever, I don’t care. I’m not sleeping on _that_. I’ll get a hotel.” She scowled at the bed like this was entirely its fault—whatever _this_ was. Maya rubbed her hand over her face and when she dropped it, it was like she’d rubbed the anger away and all that was left was a bone-deep weariness that made Annie ache just to look at it. “God damn it,” she whispered fiercely. Annie wondered what in particular she was damning. She wondered if Maya knew herself.

“Think of it like this,” Annie said. “If you’re dreaming up this world, you’d have dreamed up a better flat.”

Maya started looked at Annie like she’d forgotten she was there, like she was seeing her for the first time. Then she laughed. It wasn’t a joyful sound. “Aren’t you just perfect?” Maya said. The way she said it, it didn’t exactly sound like a compliment. Annie couldn’t stop herself from bristling a bit.

“What d’you mean, ma’am?”

Maya crossed her arms and stepped towards Annie, closer than was normal. She was taller than Annie by about a head, or maybe that was just the heels. Either way, it was enough to loom. Annie held her ground.

“I mean, just look at you,” Maya said, her voice low and amused like this was all some joke that Annie didn’t understand. “Perfect peach skin, big brown eyes, pretty pink lips. You’re smart, you’re caring, you seem exceedingly interested in me. You’re the least terrible things about this place so far.” Somehow, though Annie still blushed, none of that came out sounding like a compliment either. She sounded honestly annoyed at Annie for being appealing.

“You’ve been here six hours,” Annie said, feeling far too aware of her pretty pink lips as they formed the words.

Maya smiled bitterly. “I didn’t say you had a lot of competition.” She raised her hand to Annie’s forehead and brushed back a strand of hair. Annie’s skin tingled where her fingertips had glanced across, like the feeling she got when she ran her fingers over a blade or snuck one of the station’s gun just to hold its weight in her hands.  And this was about that dangerous. Maya had to be insane. You didn’t do _this_ with people you didn’t know, didn’t trust. Maya’s fingertips held promises that Annie should be hearing. “You’re exactly what I’d dream up to convince myself that this isn’t a dream,” Maya said.

Annie bit back a sigh—though whether it was at being reminded of Maya’s delusion or because Maya’s knuckles had caressed Annie’s cheek, Annie couldn’t say. “This isn’t a dream.”  

Maya laughed again, and it was full of the desperation. She shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “I don’t think it is. The bastard hit me here.” She rubbed the back of her head where skull met neck. “A pipe, maybe. Or a hammer. I don’t know. I’m much better at analyzing wounds when they aren’t my own. Head wounds aren’t like you see on the telly. They don’t just knock you out for a few minutes before you’re back on your feet.” She closed her eyes. “I remember the blood going down my back. There was a lot of blood.”

Before Annie could think about it, she reached up and cupped the back of Maya’s head, her hand on top of Maya’s. Maya’s lips parted in surprise. Annie was too conscious of those lips as well. Her fingers fitted into the spaces between Maya’s. “There’s not a bump,” Annie said. “Not even a scratch.”

Maya slid her hand out from under Annie’s and, just as Annie was beginning to panic that she’d misread everything, she rested it on Annie’s waist. “I think I’m dead, Annie,” Maya said so quietly that Annie almost couldn’t hear.

They were standing so close that Annie could feel the heat of her body. “You don’t seem dead,” Annie said.

 Maya’s mouth twisted in a smile. “I don’t feel alive.”

And because there was something about this madwoman that made Annie go faster when she should have turned around, her free hand rose and gently moved aside the lapel of Maya’s leather jacket. Maya followed with her eyes but did nothing, and Annie took that as permission enough to lay her hand gently on Maya’s breast. Maya’s heart was pounding. It matched Annie’s. “You feel alive to me.”

Maya’s eyes flicked down to Annie’s hand. “You have an interesting way of making your case, PC Cartwright.” _WPC Cartwright_ , Annie almost said, but this seemed like a bad time to bring it up because unless her eyes were deceiving her, Maya seemed to be getting closer and closer. Yes, Annie realized, she was, and parted her lips to let her in.

Maya pressed Annie against the door of the flat, one hand cupping Annie’s neck, the other curled around her waist, bringing her tight against her like Annie was a buoy and Maya a drowning woman.  Annie’s one arm was trapped between them, the other hooked round Maya’s neck as she held on. She rocked against Annie, her hands clenching and unclenching, grabbing, kneading. Maya’s hands crept down and started pulling Annie’s skirt up. Her knee nudged between Annie’s legs and pressed. Annie made a noise of want and Maya swallowed it whole.

When they were done, they stayed against the door. Maya’s frame was the only thing keeping Annie upright at the moment. Her knees wanted very badly to buckle. Maya had one arm propped against the door, the other wrapped around Annie’s waist, and her head buried in Annie’s neck. She could feel Maya’s hot breath against her flushed skin. She could feel Maya’s sweat too and her own, prickling on her scalp and running down her back. That was why you typically took your clothing off for this kind of thing, Annie supposed.

She waited for Maya to break away. To adjust her clothing and fix her hair and tell Annie how much this didn’t happen. But Maya just stayed there, clutching Annie and breathing her in. She was crying, Annie realized when she felt the wetness on her shoulder. Maya silently shuddered. “I want to go home,” she said, her lips pressed against Annie’s neck. They made her shiver, and she patted Maya’s back and rubbed soothing things to cover up the fact that she’d been aroused by the feel of the plea against her skin. They stayed for a long time like that, until Maya stilled and Annie’s arms had long gone numb.  

 Then Maya pressed a kiss to Annie’s neck, so soft and gentle it felt like a benediction. As Maya drew it back, Annie could still feel her lips. “That was unprofessional,” Maya said wryly as she wiped her cheeks.  Annie reflected on how unfair it was that Maya still looked so attractive, tearstained and a sniffley.

“We aren’t at work,” Annie said sensibly. Maya scoffed. “What? Do what you want on your free time and don’t get caught. We’re not coppers all the time.”

Maya shook her head. “Welcome to the seventies,” she said.

“Enjoy your stay.”

She glanced sideways at Annie “You’re a funny sort of bird, you know that?” Maya said.

Annie laughed harder than was perhaps appropriate. Maya gave her a confused look. Annie thought that was more than a little hypocritical. “Birds of a feather.”

Maya snorted. “Flock together.”

“That we do,” Annie agreed, and she knew she shouldn’t say what she was about to say, even as it occurred to her to say it. “You can stay with me,” Annie said anyway. Maya stared at her. Annie ducked her head then lifted her chin. Her body was as split on how to react to the woman as her mind was. “If you like. You’ll have to kip on the couch, but it’s better than, you know.” Annie nodded at the trundle. “That.”

Maya stared at her like, well, like she was crazy. And then she smiled, really smiled without anything darker tinting it. This must be what she looked like normally, when she wasn’t injured or exhausted or shouting that the next berk who touched her arse would lose his hand. Annie very much liked it. “Only the couch?” Maya asked. Annie blushed, and Maya laughed again. “Yeah,” she said. “Yes, okay, yes. Sticking with you is the least terrible plan I’ve had so far.”

Strangely enough, that one did sound like a compliment. And Annie was pretty sure that this was a crazy, stupid, disastrous mistake because Maya was not safe, was the opposite of safe in every way that she could be for Annie. This was not the kind of thing that Annie did. But Annie still felt Maya’s lips tingling on her neck, and she still heard the way she’d shouted all the things Annie wanted to shout ringing in her ears. And like Annie said—you had to be a _little_ cracked to be in this job in the first place.

“Alright then,” Annie said, smiling as she opened the debauched flat door. “Let’s get you home.”


End file.
